


Not a Boy Band

by zeldasayre



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Garage Band AU, High School AU, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, Oops, Pining, Post-Zayn, let's see, oh and I know they don't play the instruments I say they play ok just go with me on this, sorry - Freeform, um, what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldasayre/pseuds/zeldasayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I doubt Harry and I would have ever become friends if we hadn’t been made lab partners for sophomore year Bio. I didn’t have many friends at our school. </p><p>It was different in middle school, and freshman year, at my old school. I was obnoxious, voted ‘class clown’ in those dumb yearbook polls at the end of eighth grade, and I had more friends than I could keep track of. But then one of those friends started a rumor about me, and it didn’t end well. Like, I-had-to-transfer, didn’t end well.</p><p>That’s life, though. You know.</p><p>I decided to just keep to myself at my new school. </p><p>Then I met Harry. </p><p> </p><p>(or, the one where Harry wants to start a garage band. Um... gayness ensues.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to say this takes place in America bc I don't want to make a sad attempt at 'writing British' because I would just fail so incredibly you would weep

"Do you want to start a band?"

I looked up from my history book and rose my eyebrows at him.

"Dude," he said, "I think we should do it.”

“Dude,” I imitated him. “You aren’t even doing a very good job getting this history project done with me. What makes you think you could commit to being in a band?”

"I have no _interest_ in history," Harry said. "But I'm  _very_ interested in the Ramones."

I rolled my eyes. There was no point in arguing. Harry always got his way.

A week later, Amy walked up Harry's driveway and gave him a broad smile.

“I brought liquid rejuvenation,” she said, like a character in a sitcom.

“Amy,” Harry said, wrapping his free arm around her waist, moving his guitar out of the way so he could pull her to him. “My guardian angel. Thank you.”

I set my bass down and crossed to the other side of the garage, digging through my bag for my phone. It’d just occurred to me that I hadn’t told my mom I’d be home late.

I mean, she probably assumed as much. But it’s better to be polite.

“Louis,” Amy said, and I looked up from my phone at her under heavy lids. She smiled and held up another to-go cup. “Plain coffee with half-and-half and raw sugar, right?”

“Oh,” I said, my eyebrows shooting up. “Wow, thanks.”

I accepted the cup and she smiled before nuzzling into Harry. I looked down into the coffee, as if to inspect it, as if to make sure she hadn’t lied about the contents. I heard Amy whispering to Harry and kept my head down as I turned back to my bass. I took a long pull of the coffee and sighed as I pocketed my phone. My mom hadn’t responded. Because, obviously, there was no reason for her to be worried.

“Alright, Louis, you ready?” Harry asked.

I put the coffee on the floor and picked up my bass, “Ready whenever you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so I'm new to the whole fan fiction thing (not new to writing in general, just this) so idk is this a good length for a chapter? Yell at me if it's not. Thanks:)

“We need a drummer,” Harry said, leaning against the locker beside mine.

“Your hair is a mess,” I said.

“I was wearing a beanie before,” he said. I closed my locker and turned toward him.

“Also a guitar player.”

“You play the guitar.”

“Another guitarist.” Harry ran a hand through his ridiculously long hair, his fingers coming to a knot and ripping through it. I turned from him to look down the hall, licking my lips.

He followed me as I started toward the cafeteria.

“Do you know any drummers?” I asked.

“I was thinking we could put up flyers,” he said. “Hold auditions.”

“This is the twenty-first century, Harry,” I said, grinning at him. “You could at least suggest a Facebook group.”

“What’s wrong with flyers?” he played offense.

I laughed. “Sure, Harry. Put up flyers.”

 

*

 

Harry met me outside the door of my Chem class. “Niall wants to join the band,” he said, practically bouncing.

I couldn’t help but laugh, euphoria flowed out of him like a rushing stream. “Who’s Niall?” I asked.

“Niall Horan,” he said. “You know. That Irish kid. The really happy one.”

“As opposed to all the other Irish kids,” I smiled. “Is he a foreign exchange student?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe?”

I shook my head at him.

“Harry!” someone called down the hall. We both turned towards the voice. He smiled at Andy Parrish, who was waving him over. Andy threw a lot of parties. People went because Andy brought beer and Harry.

“I’ll text you,” Harry said, backing away from me. I nodded and watched him go before heading out to the parking lot alone.

 

*

 

“Hello?”

“Hi?” a voice replied, sounding a bit uneasy, or at least unsure.

“Hi,” I said, raising an eyebrow as I pulled the phone away from my ear to re-examine the caller ID. I still didn’t know who it was.

“This is Liam,” the voice assisted me. “Liam Payne. Or– wow. Sorry. I just James Bond-ed you.”

I laughed, “Hey, Liam Payne. Can I ask how you got my number?”

“Oh, um,” he said, “I play the drums.”

He said this as if it stood as an answer on its own. It took me a moment, and we sat in silence, and then I rolled my eyes enormously and said, “Harry put my cell number on his flyers.”

“Harry Styles?” Liam said, and I could almost hear his eyebrows raise. “He’s in the band?”

“He is the band,” I chuckled, pulling my lap top onto my bed and flipping it open.

“Oh,” Liam said. “Nice. Cool.”

I grunted in response. “So,” I said. “You said you play…?”

“The drums.”

“Nice,” I said, scrolling, “You’re in.”

“Sorry?”

“The band, I mean.”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “Didn’t the flyer say you were holding auditions, or something?”

“Are you terrible?” I asked.

“What?”

“On the drums. Are you terrible on the drums.”

“Oh. Uh… no?”

“Cool. You’re in.”

Liam laughed. “Ok,” he said. “Ok, well… cool.”

“Harry’ll text you the details,” I said.

“Nice,” he said, “Uh... thanks…”

“Oh,” I said, “Louis. This is Louis Tomlinson.”

“Right, Ok,” he said. “Nice. Uh… thanks.”

“See ya later, Payne.”

“Right.”

I hung up and opened a new text to Harry.

_we got a drummer_

Harry just sent me a thousand emojis.

I fought a grin and turned back to my lap top.

 

*

 

“Louis,” Harry’s mom smiled at me. “Good to see you. Come in.”

I smiled at her and pulled off my jacket, hanging it up in the coat closet as she disappeared further into the house. “Harry!” I heard her call, “Louis’s here!”

Harry peeked out of the kitchen and grinned at me.

I grinned back.

“Lou,” Harry said, “I’m making cookies. To welcome the lads to the band. They’ll be here in half an hour.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re such a soccer mom.”

“Thank you.” He handed me a frosting-covered knife. “Help.”

I frosted alongside him as he hummed “Teenage Dirtbag”. He had his curly hair up in a messy bun. He looked like a lazy ballerina.

He turned abruptly toward me and flicked blue frosting onto my nose before I could look down. I gaped at him and he beamed wide like a string of lights. “Looks nice,” he said, “Matches your eyes.”

Then he stuck his knife in his mouth and ran his tongue along it, looking away from me.

I swallowed and dropped my gaze, turning to his paper towels to wipe my face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaangst  
> also One Direction forms

“Hello!” Harry called out excitedly as a brown-haired boy walked up the driveway toward us. Niall was there already, tuning his guitar, and he beamed at the new boy along with Harry. They looked like a couple of Walmart greeters.

I sighed and smiled.

Harry shot a hand out to the guy when he’d entered the garage. “You’re Liam?” he said, shaking the guy’s hand.

“Right,” Liam said, looking a little flustered to be shaking Harry’s hand. It was a fair enough response, Harry being as popular as he was.

I doubt Harry and I would have ever become friends if we hadn’t been made lab partners for sophomore year Bio. He was just awful at Bio, and he came over to my house most every day for help. I didn’t mind– I didn’t have many friends at our school. I don’t know. I guess transferring in midway through first semester didn’t work out in my favor.

But if I was going to have few friends, Harry wasn’t a bad one.

It was different in middle school, and freshman year, at my old school. I was obnoxious, voted ‘class clown’ in those dumb yearbook polls at the end of eighth grade, and I had more friends than I could keep track of. But then one of those friends started a rumor about me, and it didn’t end well. Like, I had-to-transfer, didn’t end well.

That’s life, though. You know.

I decided to just keep to myself at my new school. All the friends I acquired were the kind I’d say hi to in the hall, maybe go to the movies with sometimes, but never hang out at each other’s houses, never just lay around on each other’s beds and talk about nothing for hours.

Then I met Harry. And, you know. He’s busy. He’s popular.

But we get along.

I think he likes me. Who knows. Harry Styles seems to like everyone.

I’m not complaining. “Louis and I made you cookies!” Harry said, holding the plate out to Liam. I pressed my lips together to fight a smile, and Liam laughed.

“Wow,” he said, “Thanks, man.”

“Sorry we don’t have drums yet,” Harry said.

“No, no, I have my own kit. I can bring it here, if you want.”

“That’d be awesome!”

Liam nodded, excitement lighting up across his face. I ran a hand through my hair and looked at Harry. He smiled wide at me.

“So,” he said, “What should we call ourselves?”

 

*

 

“So,” Harry said, elongating the ‘o’. We were alone now, in his room. It was starting to get late, but it was also a Friday. I’d never actually spent the night at Harry’s, but he always offered. I didn’t mind driving home late, though. I liked the quiet.

He was on the floor, ignoring the textbook and notepaper laid out in front of him. Laying flat on his bed, I raised my head up to look down at him. He rose a brow at me.

“One Direction.”

I groaned.

“Do you really hate it?”

“It’s whatever, Harry. You like it, so whatever. That’s the name.” I paused a moment and then laid a hand dramatically over my brow, “I’m resigned to it, now.”

Harry laughed, grinning up at me. My cheeks heated a bit as I fought not to grin back. I set my gaze back on the glow-in-the-dark stars on Harry’s ceiling.

Dork.

“We can change it, though,” he said, “If you really hate it.”

“I don’t mind.”

“What about Liam and Niall? They seem cool, yea?”

“Yea. They’re nice.”

“And Niall’s very good.”

“Better than you, that’s for sure.”

“Hey!” I laughed as Harry threw a pillow at me, then pulled it under my neck. His phone buzzed, and I glanced over as he picked it up and looked down at the screen.

“It’s just Amy,” he told me. I looked back at the ceiling and closed my eyes.

“She wants to come over,” he said.

“That’s Ok,” I said, sitting up, “I was just leaving, anyway. My mom needs me to watch the girls tonight.”

“Tonight? It’s already past ten.”

I shrugged, gathering my stuff.

“You don’t have to go, Louis,” Harry said, his voice a bit strained. He definitely didn’t mean that. “Come on,” he said, “Lou, please. I want you to stay.”

“It’s cool, Harry. I know you wanna be alone with Amy.”

“You never stay over,” Harry sighed.

I glanced at him. His cheeks reddened a bit and he looked down at his homework again, suddenly very occupied with untangling a knot in his curls. Yea, he definitely wanted me gone.

“Later, Styles.”

“…Bye, Lou.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> songwriting shenanigans

Liam spotted me in the cafeteria and waved, friendly and grinning. I lifted a hand in response, and he walked over.

“How’s it going, Louis?”

“Alright,” I said, as he sat down across from me, setting his lunch tray down on the table before him. I glanced around the cafeteria, “Don’t you have other people you want to sit with?”

“Oh,” he said, “Well, sure, my friends are–” and he motioned over to a table of bored-looking guys a ways away from us. “But I want to talk about the band, man! I think I’m gonna bring my kit over to Harry’s tomorrow.”

I smiled. “Cool,” I said.

“Hey there, boys!” Niall said, coming up from behind me, “Is this seat taken?”

Niall and Liam looked at me with something of an expression of expectancy, and I rose my eyebrows.

“Where’s Harry?” Liam asked.

I shrugged. Harry didn’t sit with me, most days. Oftentimes he had club meetings at lunch, and if not, he was always sitting with a different group– passed between them like a shared doll. I waited my turn. I didn’t mind.

“Well!” Harry’s voice, immediately recognizable, that weirdly deep voice of his, “Looks like the band’s back together!”

“Harry,” I said, as he slid in beside me, shooting me a wide grin, “The band was never apart.”

“Nonetheless,” Harry said, smiling still.

“I was thinking I’d bring my kit to yours tomorrow,” Liam said excitedly, “And we could have a proper jam session, you know. Start getting a sound for ourself!”

“That sounds great,” Harry smiled at him.

“Do any you guys have any original songs or anything?” Niall asked. “I don’t know how I feel about being a cover band.”

We were all silent for a moment, and then I shrugged with a shoulder and said, “I have a couple ideas. They’re not much–”

“That’s great!” Harry said. I rose a brow at him.

“Don’t you, too, Harry? I remember you told me once–”

“Oh, I’m no good at song-writing. Just kind of mess around with some stuff sometimes, for the laugh of it. None of it’s any good.”

“Why don’t you let Louis be the judge of that?” Liam asked, and we both rose a brow at him. “You guys should meet up tonight, go over your stuff. See if you have anything decent.”

Harry turned to me, so I rose one shoulder in a shrug. “Sure,” I said, “that sounds fine.”

Harry looked down at his food and smiled.

 

*

 

Back on Harry’s bed, I pulled my lap top out of my bag and started searching spotlight for those jumble of documents and garageband songs I’d saved all over. I felt suddenly nervous, and entirely certain that every one of those semi-songs were terrible.

“These are crap, really,” Harry said, sitting beside me with a notebook in hand, “Just, like, so bad. I’m just warning you.”

I shook my head, “The warning is mutual. But I’m sure they’re not crap, Harry. You’re good at everything.”

“Right,” Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, Louis.”

He glanced over at my lap top. “What’s that?” he said, pointing at a garageband track– one I hadn’t meant to open.

“Oh,” I said, scrambling to pull the lap top closer to me and minimize the page, “No, that’s–”

Harry and his giant hands ripped the lap top from me and pressed play. I gaped at him, genuinely shocked. He just grinned at me as my stupid, tinny voice started to come through the lap top speakers.

Most tracks I recorded, I tried to strum my dad’s Taylor loud enough that you could barely hear my singing. I hated hearing my voice recorded.

This one, though, I’d done acapella, after waking up in the middle of the night with a sudden idea and not wanting to forget it but also not wanting to fully give in to a state of being awake.

I buried my head in his pillows as my voice played far too loud, pressing in on my ears like weights I hadn’t prepared to lift.

_'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker_

_Is that so wrong?_

_Is it so wrong_

_That you make me strong?_

Fortunately I’d only recorded part of the hastily-written chorus to that song that night, so my torture didn’t drag on too long. I remained buried in the pillows just the same, after the clip had ended.

“That’s nice, Lou,” Harry said quietly.

I forced a laugh. “My voice is terrible,” I said, “I don’t write the stuff to be sung by me. Or– geez. I can’t believe you just heard that.”

“It was really good, Lou,” Harry said, sounding stiff and awkward, and now I felt all the blood in my body rushing to my face. Did I make him uncomfortable? Did he think I had a terrible voice, and was embarrassed about having to lie about it? Did he think the song was awful? Did he think– oh crap if he was thinking about what it was… about…

I sat up abruptly and pulled the lap top into my lap, slamming it shut.

“I wrote that a long time ago,” I lied, “At my old school. It’s crap. Let’s hear something of yours.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Ok, well,” he opened the notebook and flipped to a heavily-scribbled-upon page with a dog-ear, “Um, this is very rough, and I’ve only got a couple stanzas so far, so just… bear with me.”

I nodded. Then he cleared his throat again, and I realized– for some insane reason, for the first time– that he was going to sing.

I tried to find anything in the room at all to look at but him.

His voice. It was strangely high, light and airy, for being so deep when he spoke. I tried to pay attention to the lyrics. I tried not to look at him.

_I want you here with me_

_Like how I pictured it_

_So I don't have to keep imagining_

I could see it in my mind’s eye like a movie on a flat screen. Harry, a guitar lazily slung across his torso, leaning into a mic, locking his eyes on Amy’s, smiling as he sung.

He stopped singing, and I sighed.

“What?” he said, seeming startled by my response, “Was it that bad?”

“Oh! No, dude, no, not at all. That’s great. That’s really good, Harold.”

“Um,” he flipped the notebook closed. “Thanks.”

We sat in silence for a moment. “So how about we just try those out on the guys, then?” Harry said, “I don’t really… um… see the point in just playing all of these right now, for each other. You know.”

“Right,” I agreed, “Totally.”

“You want to watch a movie or something?”

I pulled my jacket tight around me. “Yea,” I said, “Sure.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter's so short– I literally wasted all day watching larry videos. help me

“Those are epic, you guys,” Niall said, smiling so wide I thought his face might split in half.

I laughed. This kid was so easily impressed.

My songs were obviously terrible, and even I could admit that a couple of Harry’s were less than great. But Niall couldn’t have looked more pleased.

Liam seemed happy, too, nodding his head and grinning. “Yea,” he said, “Not bad, you guys, not bad. Some of those are really good.”

There we go. That was a more reasonable claim.

We all helped Liam assemble his drum kit in Harry’s garage, then Niall had to run, so Liam left too, but as I started to pick up my stuff, Harry said, “Lou, since you’re here, you wanna study for APUSH?”

I nodded without thinking and followed him into his house.

 

*

 

I moved to sit up against Harry’s headboard as he pushed his bedroom door open with his back, a plate in one hand and two mugs balanced carefully in the other.

I jumped up to take one from him before he could spill milk all over his carpet.

He crawled carefully up onto his bed and I followed suit, reoccupying my former spot. He handed me a grilled cheese, warm and soft and gold. I would’ve asked if he didn’t want me to eat on the floor, but Harry always brought food on his bed. Anne scolded him for it endlessly, but he’d just smile and shrug.

We devoured the sandwiches quickly, not having eaten since lunch period. When I’d finished my milk, I set it down carefully on a magazine on his bedside table. He set his own directly on the wood, and I just smiled and shook my head.

Harry, sitting at the opposite end of the bed by my feet, pulled his textbook into his lap with a sigh.

I glanced over the top of my own book at him. He tucked his long hair behind his ear and chewed absently on his lower lip as he stared down.

I looked away.

After a few minutes, Harry sighed again and shifted restlessly. I kept my gaze on my textbook as he fidgeted and shuffled.

Then he laid down, holding his textbook up above him, close to my legs.

I flipped a page.

Then he shifted so his head rested on my thighs. My gaze darted to him and my hands went stiff around my book.

I released one and flipped a page again.

His textbook must have been heavy to hold over himself like that. I expected him to sit up again in a moment.

But after a while he just put his textbook down and pulled out his phone.

Normally I would have teased him for abandoning his intent to study, but I didn’t say anything.

Eventually he put his phone down, too, and whenever I looked at him, I found his eyes on the ceiling.

At some point, he fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just so much fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having such a hard time keeping myself from listening to the leaked album right now, you guys. Keep me in your thoughts, tbh

Over the next few weeks, the four of us started meeting regularly at Harry’s after school, teaching ourselves how to play Harry’s and my songs and then, once we’d gotten them down, practicing them over and over and over again.

One Friday night, Harry said, “Shall we meet again tomorrow, boys?”

“I think we shall,” Niall said with a grin.

Harry turned to me, “Want to stay over then, Louis? Practice in the morning before the boys come over?”

I stared at him. “Sure,” I said immediately, though after a moment of consideration, I didn’t really understand the purpose of this arrangement.

The other guys headed home shortly after that, Liam on his skateboard and Niall in his mom’s sedan. I glanced over at Harry. He shrugged his shoulders at me. “Want to go out, then?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Sure.”

The diner was dimly lit, a trait I found rather subversive and courageous given normal diners aesthetics. The waitress uniform, though, fell neatly within the status quo– little blue dresses with white collars and white aprons around the waist. At least they weren’t on roller skates.

Harry ordered a cheeseburger and a malt, I’d eaten dinner early, already, so I got a large fry for us to share and a milkshake. Harry looked at me when I ordered that, did this little hip-shimmy and mouthed the word “shake”. Our waitress turned pink.

I looked out the window, where it had started to rain. It made the already-stuffy diner feel even warmer and closer. I shrugged out of my jacket, then frowned. Wearing a loose tank top, I’d gone from too hot to too cold. I debated putting the jacket immediately back on. I glanced over at Harry. He was looking at me, but he dropped his gaze to the table when I met his eyes.

I left my jacket on the seat.

The diner wasn’t particularly busy, so our food came quickly. Harry stuffed four fries in his mouth at once and grinned at me. I laughed and fake-gagged. He told me about his older sister’s recent obsession with some boy band as he ate his burger in rapid movements. I chewed on my straw after every other sip of the milkshake, staring out the window as Harry talked.

“She sent me some of their music,” Harry said, “Kind of sounds like my songs, to be honest.” He laughed.

“We are not a boy band,” I said.

Harry laughed again. I smiled back at him, despite my best efforts.

Outside, I pulled my jean jacket up over my head, shielding myself from the rain. Harry spun out into the parking lot in his high-heeled boots, his hair fanning out around him, and twirled in the rain.

“Don’t,” I said, knowing it was coming.

He immediately broke out into “Singin’ in the Rain”. I came running after him, and he laughed and laughed and ran from me, screaming and laughing and soaking wet.

His mom just shook her head at us when we got back to his house, hanging our soaking jackets in the coat closet.

“You boys,” she said, an autonomous statement.

 

*

 

In the middle of the night, Harry let out a loud noise, startling me awake. I blinked, lost, and stared about myself, baffled as to where I was. Then I sat up and saw Harry, his head by my feet. I sighed and lay back down.

I closed my eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. Then Harry made the noise again, and this time, I could tell what it was.

He was laughing.

I squeezed my eyes closed, but it was dark, and he was asleep, and we were alone.

So I opened them again and stared up at the ceiling, smiling as wide as I possibly could, listening to Harry laugh in his sleep.

I fell asleep again before a minute had passed.

 

*

 

Harry came out of the shower Saturday morning with a towel on his head and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hazza,” I said, “You’re so weird.”

I hadn’t called Harry the nickname for a while. It’d stumbled out of my mouth one night at a party when we were both a bit more than tipsy, and Harry had laughed and told me I should call him that more often. I’d repeated it over and over that night. But it felt weird at school that Monday. I felt myself turning red as I called it out down the hallway. I hadn’t used it since then.

He grinned, then. “I like when you call me that,” he said.

I was red again. I just shook my head at him.

“This is just part of having long hair,” he defended himself, “It’s not abnormal among us kind.”

“Right,” I said, smiling, looking away from him, still shaking my head.

We made waffles, with strawberries and powdered sugar and everything, and ate them on his couch, watching the literal Saturday morning cartoons with his mom.

We headed out to his garage shortly after and messed around with our songs until around two, when Liam and Niall showed up.

“So,” Liam said, “Ni and I were just talking, he mentioned he heard some great local bands are supposed to be playing at that swanky little restaurant/bar/barn place in town tonight. Thought maybe we should check it out, maybe we could talk to some people, see if we can get a gig like that sometime, or just talk to some of the band members, ask about hookups, you know. Or maybe just check out some cool tunes. Support our brothers, and all that.”

Harry laughed, “That sounds great, man. Lou?”

“Sounds great,” I agreed, “That’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? That feels like a real band thing to do on a Saturday night, doesn't it, Hazza?”

I didn’t really mean to say it again, but he beamed, and neither Niall nor Liam seemed bothered, so I guess it wasn’t bad.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed.

“It’s settled then!” Niall said, bouncing on his feet.

“Great,” Liam said.

“Alright,” Harry said, picking up his guitar, and we moved into position.

I kept my eyes on the floor every time Harry sang, and on the driveway when I did. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (insert suggestive emoji here) (emoji? emoticon? I still don't get the difference)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus (super-short) chapter for today, because going to bed at a decent time is terrible idea, right?

Harry changed into this just ridiculous, oversized silk shirt before we left. Paired with his high-heeled boots and that hair to his shoulders, he was such a sight I was almost surprised we didn’t get cat-called, walking to the venue.

I turned my snapback around on my head, then around again. Then again. And again.

Harry laughed and grabbed the hat from me mid-turn, ruffling my hair and putting it back on me backwards. Alright, so backwards, then.

The restaurant was dark and musty. The music had already started, and it was piercingly loud around us, pulsing in my ears like a fist to the chest.

“You want a drink?” Niall asked us as we settled in the relatively large crowd that had gathered. I rose a brow at him. He grinned and pulled out a fake.

Liam just laughed and shook his head, ruffling Niall’s hair. “Why don’t you let me take care of this one, Horan, you sweet little baby-face.”

Niall frowned but consented, leaning in to Harry and I as Liam walked away to say, “Since he looks like he’s about thirty, I guess.”

I laughed, and Harry smiled.

The bands weren’t bad. Niall and Harry danced like a couple of girls at a middle school dance, Liam and I just shaking our heads at them and nodding along with the music. Niall’s hands never came down to his sides, and Harry’s hips swiveled as if of their own volition. I cleared my throat and kept my eyes on the band, smiling at Liam in approval.

Liam chased the second band’s lead singer to the men’s room after the show, and came back to us beaming and holding up a scrawled-on napkin.

“Got his digits, then?” I asked. Harry laughed and Liam just grinned.

“Laugh now,” he said, “But we’ll be playing here next time.”

We took the long way back to Harry’s, walking along the shore as the waves crashed and the sea air cooled us and washed off the smell of sweat and cheap wine.

Niall and Liam walked on ahead of us, carrying on about band matters excitedly, gesticulating like elderly Italian women. Liam put one arm around Niall’s shoulders and used the other to wave about in punctuation. Harry and I walked slowly behind them in silence, just watching. Then Liam motioned towards the diner, the same one Harry and I’d patroned the night before, and we nodded and followed them up and in. We slid into a booth, Liam’s arm still around Niall’s shoulders as he talked loudly and endlessly.

I leaned back against the soft cushion of the booth and sighed extendedly. Harry laughed.

“You alright there, guy?” He bumped me with his shoulder, then didn’t move away. I looked at Liam’s arm around Niall’s shoulder and felt Harry’s next to mine. Then a yawn crawled up my throat, and I let it escape, huge and quiet. Somewhat unintentionally, I leaned into Harry, ’til my head rested on his shoulder. He went stiff, so I immediately straightened up and forced another yawn.

“Tired,” I said.

Harry nodded.

Our milkshakes came, and I leaned against the glass as I drank mine. Niall started cracking jokes, and Liam and Harry laughed wildly. Harry looked over at me with a smile, and I closed my eyes, still against the glass. I yawned again, this time effortlessly.

“Should we get you home, Lou?” Harry asked, actually sounding concerned.

I laughed, “I’m fine, Haz- …-y.”

But I fell asleep in the booth, and when I woke up, Liam and Niall were gone, and Harry was standing and leaning over me, looking like he fully intended to pick me up and carry me out.

“Harry!” I exclaimed, bolting upright. “I’m fine! Why didn’t you just wake me?”

“Sorry,” he said.

I just shook my head, “Don’t apologize, crazy. You’re such a weirdo. Were you going to carry me home?”

Harry just smiled, and I smiled and stood up.

“I’ll go home, then,” I said.

“Ok.”

“Night, Harry.”

“Hazza.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Night, Lou.”

Harry walked out before me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol wow gay

“Such a lady killer,” Liam commented by way of greeting, leaning against the locker next to mine. I glanced over my shoulder to see who he meant. Harry was coming down the hall towards us, flanked by two pretty girls who looked tiny next to his towering frame. The three of them looked like they’d fallen out of a Marc Jacobs ad– floral dress for the one girl, floral top for the other, floral button down (more like barely-buttoned) shirt on Harry.

I turned away from them and stuffed my books into my locker. Then I remembered I’d just taken those books out, and I needed them. So I took them out again and tucked them under my arm, slamming the locker shut.

“Hey bandmates,” Harry said with a wide smile.

“You’re in a band?” the dress gaped at Harry.

“What,” Liam said, “You havent told the groupies?”

The other girl scrunched up her nose at Liam, clearly bothered by his patronizing, but the other girl just stared on at Harry, her eyes wide and closer than anything I’ve ever encountered to fitting the description ‘sparkling’.

I rolled my eyes. “We’re hardly The Backstreet Boys, Liam.”

“Lou,” Harry asked, “Did you want to come over tonight? I thought we could study or maybe work on some new songs.”

“No,” I said, for some reason totally beyond me, “Actually, I, uh, can’t, tonight.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Harry asked before I could provide an excuse.

“Uh,” I looked up at him, and he was smiling and his cheeks were red. I shrugged, “Sure.”

The next day, though, I actually _was_ busy. So I texted Harry, _sorry have to help my sister w homework. cant come over today_ :/

 _which sister_ , Harry responded almost immediately.

 _Lottie_ , I answered.

_can I come over there_

I rose an eyebrow, surprised. Then I looked down at myself, my attire. I was wearing grey, old sweatpants and an Adidas sweatshirt big enough that I could draw my whole body into it, if I so desired. And of course, there were my glasses.

Whatever.

 _Sure_ , I texted him back. _but ull have to help_

He sent a smiley face and said, _anything for Lottie_

The doorbell rang soon after. I walked to the front door and pushed up one too-long sleeve in order to get at the doorknob. Harry looked up (or technically, annoyingly, down,) at me and sort of gaped.

“I know,” I said, turning from him, letting him follow me into the house, “Not exactly my Sunday best.” Then before he could comment or respond, I called, “Lottie, I’ve brought an unpaid laborer for you.”

“Good,” Lottie said, standing and hanging Harry a pair of scissors the moment he stepped into the living room, “Help me cut these out.”

“Lottie’s making a diorama of Lord of the Flies,” I said, “Unfortunately, she decidedly to make the entire island.”

“It’s not a diorama,” Lottie said, shooting me a glare.

I smiled at her but then feigned seriousness. “Listen,” I said, “If you want my help, you’ll have to let me call it a diorama. I have to put it in words I can understand.”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

I grinned at her, and when I glanced over at Harry, he was smiling at me. I pushed my sleeves up.

“I’ll get you some tea,” I said, and turned toward the kitchen.

I pushed my glasses up and yawned as I waited for the water to boil. “Milk or sugar?” I called out.

“Yea,” Harry called back, which I took to mean both. I pushed my sleeves up past the elbow before pouring the tea. I owned a number tea strainers– my extended family members were always giving them to me as Christmas gifts. I chose two, filled them with my favorite tea leaves, and set them in the mugs. I poured milk and sugar into Harry’s. Just milk, in mine. I liked to appreciate the flavor.

“Here,” I said, handing Harry a mug. “You have to let it steep, though. For at least four minutes. It’s good stuff. You can tell the quality of the tea by how long it takes to steep.”

He bit his lip, holding back a smile.

“What?” I said, confused at the expression.

“Nothing,” he said, “You’re just, like, a walking American Girl Doll catalogue.”

I reeled, offended, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“No,” he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” I said, at the same time that he said, in a hurry, “I just meant you’re cute.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks. They became hotter than my hands, even holding a boiling mug. “Alright,” I said, “That’s your short joke for the night. No more than that one.”

I sat down beside Harry on the living room floor, setting my own mug on a coaster on the coffee table before crossing my legs beneath me.

“Hand me Piggy,” I said.

“No,” Lottie responded without looking up, “I’m making Piggy.”

“You said I could make Piggy!”

“You can make the pig,” Lottie said, “The lord of the flies.”

“Gross,” I said, but I accepted the supplies she handed me.

We worked in silence. I looked up after a while, pressed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Harry was looking at me, but when I looked over, he looked down.

“We need music,” I said.

“Shut up,” Lottie said.

“ _I_ know,” I said, and raised myself onto my knees, reaching over to the DVD player and pressing eject, selecting a CD from the shelf below. Moments later, the living room speakers were blasting The Backstreet Boys.

“Why do we _have_ this?” Lottie growled. I laughed. “Sounds like your music,” she grumbled.

“It does not,” I shoved her lightly. She smirked and went on with her work. I settled back into my spot with a smirk of my own and reached out to retrieve my tea. As I did, I noticed Harry’s eyes on me yet again. I met his gaze, and he didn’t look down. He just smiled at me.

I dropped my eyes to the floor and hid behind my mug, taking a long drink before returning to the lord of the flies.

We worked without speaking. I interrupted myself over and over with yawns.

“Geez, Louis,” Lottie said, finally. “Just lie down for a while, alright? You’re no good to me if you can’t even keep your eyes open. Look at that– you’re not even cutting straight.”

I yawned again and pulled a pillow off the couch.

“I’ll just lay down for a minute,” I said.

“Right,” Lottie laughed, shaking her head.

I put the pillow down on the carpet and closed my eyes in a yawn as I laid down. But I missed, my head landing in Harry’s lap instead of on the pillow.

“Oh,” I said, eyes shooting open again.

“It’s Ok,” Harry said before I could apologize, and then, before I could sit up, “I don’t mind.”

I stared up at him, for a moment, and he stared down at me. Then I closed my eyes, and almost instantly fell asleep.

 

*

 

“Harry is so cool,” Niall said, sitting beside me in the cafeteria. I glanced up to where he was looking. Harry was standing in the center of a group of people near the doors. I couldn’t help smiling to myself– he probably didn’t even realize he was the center of the group.

“I mean,” Niall said, before I could respond or agree, “Look how he dresses. He’s so confident.” I nodded. He wasn’t wrong about that. “If anyone else dressed like that, everyone would think he was gay.”

I dropped my gaze to the table and bored into it.

“But Harry gets more girls than anyone at this school. It’s crazy. Did you hear he went out with Gwen Anderson? And that _he_ broke up with _her_?” Niall shook his head in amazement. “I mean, not to sound like we’re on _Friday Night Lights_ or anything, but how does that even happen? How does someone develop the sexual prowess to actually _break up_ with _Gwen Anderson_?”

“Did you just say sexual prowess?” I asked.

“Man, there’s no other way to put it.”

I laughed. Niall raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you Ok?” he asked, “You look sick, man.”

“Have you tried the mashed potatoes yet?” I asked. Niall looked down at his tray, then scooped a spoonful of the potatoes into his mouth. He made a disgusted face and shook his head, swallowingly sharply.

“Dude,” he said, “Here. I took two PB&Js. Have one.”

“No, thanks,” I said, resting my head on my fist and staring down at my tray, “I’m not hungry anymore.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *that one gif of michael scott saying it's happening*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long– went to NYC this weekend, 've been so busy I literally just listened to Made in the AM for the first time in full TODAY. (it's so good I'm DYING)  
> happy Ellen day, though  
> *muffled screeching*
> 
>  
> 
> (honestly, what am I talking about, the real reason this took so long is bc I've been reading Escapade. OH MAN. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT, FORGET THIS CRAP FIC. GO. READ THAT GLORIOUS WORK OF ART.)

Liam had an essay to write, so we didn't meet for band practice that night. I sat down on my bed with my dad’s Taylor and stared blankly at the wall before me as I strummed. My phone buzzed, and I looked down at it.

 _u busy?_  Harry asked. I sighed and set down the guitar.

 _not really_ , I answered.

_u wanna come over_

_nah, sry, not tonight. moms making tostadas_

He took a moment to respond. Then, _I couldn't find a drooling emoji but imagine I sent a drooling emoji_

 _yea, i don't think that exists_ , I answered, and then added, _don't wry, I have a very vivid imagination_

Harry sent a close-eyed smiley. I sighed and picked up the Taylor again.

I was so tired. Lately I felt I was constantly tired.

Lottie entered my room. “Look,” she said, “I made Piggy.”

I laughed and shook my head. Leaving my room, she called behind her, “Mom says set the table.”

I set the guitar down again and stood up.

 

*

 

When I walked up Harry’s driveway the next day, Niall and Liam were already in the garage, each with a glass of iced tea in hand like men on a neighbor’s porch in the 1920s, discussing fashion and politics. Harry smiled when he saw me and moved forward as if to hug me.

“Can I get some of that?” I asked before he could complete the motion, nodding towards the boys’ glasses.

“Oh,” he said, “Of course.” I walked behind him and settled near my stand, unzipping my bass from the case on my back with a sigh.

“You alright, man?” I looked to Liam in surprise.

“Yea,” I said quickly. “Yea, just, long day. You know.”

Liam nodded, “I know, man. That pop quiz in Anderson’s class was so brutal. I never study for that class.” He laughed.

I smiled and nodded. Harry came out of the house, then, and handed me a glass. I took it and didn’t know what to do with it, so I drank it. Then I set it on the ground by the wall.

“How were the tostadas?” Harry asked. My gaze shot to him and he smirked at me as if we had a secret joke. Other times I might’ve grinned back, but just then I didn’t, or I couldn’t or I wouldn’t or I forgot how. I don’t know. But then Niall started playing without warning or hesitation, so one moment was lost to the next, and it turned out that it didn’t matter.

 

*

 

The sky was darkening by the time we finished playing. “You want a ride, Liam?” Niall asked as he packed away his guitar.

“That’d be great,” Liam said, grabbing his skateboard. Niall’s mom was just approaching the driveway.

Niall and Liam waved at us as they pulled away. I pulled my keys out of my back pocket.

“You can leave your bass here, if you’d like,” Harry said, from where he sat on a table near the door, surrounded by tools and broken household objects waiting to be fixed.

“Ok,” I said, “Thanks.”

“You want to stay for dinner?”

“Oh,” I said, “Uh… sure, I guess.”

“Cool.”

I stood there, my bass in my hands, and stared out at the night closing in. There weren’t many trees on Harry’s street, but those that were there were starting to change. Their colors were dimmed in the fading light.

I opened my mouth to say I might actually go home, but didn’t come up with an excuse, so closed it again.

Harry stood up abruptly and said, “So I think I’m gonna make a move on Amy.”

I almost dropped my bass on the cement. Carefully, I set it down on its stand and nodded. “Cool,” I said.

“Yea,” he said, “So I was thinking I should prepare, you know?”

“Sure.”

“So I was wondering if I could practice– you know, my whole spiel and everything– on you?”

I leaned against a bare spot of wall and kept my gaze on the floor. “Sure,” I said, “Shoot.”

“Ok,” he said, his voice quivering and nervous. I could see him wringing his hands in my peripheral vision like a cartoon character.

I crossed my arms across my chest.

“Amy,” he started, and I felt kind of sick. “Amy,” he repeated, “So, we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

Had they? I’d almost thought that they’d been seeing less of each other lately. But I guess I was wrong. I mean, I wasn’t with him every moment of every day. How should I know?

I nodded, being Amy. Because she’d know that.

“And I just– I just–” Harry jumped around a bit, suddenly, shaking out his arms and shaking his head.

I was staring at the floor so intently I must have looked like I was trying to drill a hole with the force of my gaze alone.

Then Harry stepped right up in front of me, and I looked up at him, and he pressed his lips to mine.

I opened my mouth into the kiss in shock and, after the second it took me to accept the situation, an involuntary and humiliating noise escaped me.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath in response and pushed me flat against the wall with the force of his weight. My arms darted out to encircle his waist and squeezed the fabric of his shirt as if I was trying to crush it into dust.

Then, abruptly, he split away from me, and took my place in drilling the ground with his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, and I was kind of panting, and he turned away from me, and he sputtered, “S-sorry. I don’t– I got a bit caught up in the charade, I guess.”

I just stared at him. I stared and I did nothing else. I didn’t think. The only thing in my head was the image of him before me.

Then he grabbed his jacket and hurried towards the door into his house, slamming it shut behind him.

Which I guess meant I should go.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I low key turned this in for a fiction workshop at my college and today I sat there listening to everyone Seriously Discussing this One Direction fan fiction unknowingly, and I was, like, cackling internally

I lay awake that night thinking about _Some Kind of Wonderful_ and grinning at the ceiling.

 

*

 

Liam and I stood with Niall at his locker, discussing the gig Liam might have gotten for us, Niall nervous and saying over and over, “Are we ready? Are you sure we’re ready?”

“Harry!” Liam called, spotting him down the hall and waving him over.

I turned and saw him, first the expression on his face, anxious and hesitant, then every other inch of his body, my eyes running down his expanse like fingers on silk, slow, dragging, acclaiming.

His hair curled around his face and down to his shoulders, flipped carelessly over his brow, tangled a bit in a spot near his left collarbone, looking softer than lamb’s ear leaves and shining in the sun that streamed into the open hallway like a gold digger’s engagement ring. His jaw was tight, locked, and sharp, his skin taut over it, but still smooth, I could imagine how it would feel under my thumb, like sheets of absurdly high thread counts.

His patterned shirt was buttoned only halfway up his chest, as always, and the skin of his upper torso was tan and smooth as his cheek, his tattoos peeking through here and there. My eyes climbed down to his legs, in no hurry. His jeans were skin-tight, every muscle of his thighs and calves visible, his ankles just barely in sight over his sleek, inch-high-heeled boots. I licked my lips, slow and complete, a full circle, before dragging my gaze back up the length of him, re-cataloguing every detail hurriedly, before landing luxuriously on his eyes, a shade of green like you see in a rainbow, reflecting the same sun that lit his curls.

But I didn’t let myself look at his lips.

“Hey, Haz,” I said.

He swallowed and managed, “Hey, Louis.”

I smirked.

 

*

 

We’d all been sitting together fairly regularly at lunch, the last few weeks, so Harry walked naturally toward us in the cafeteria ’til he noticed the only open seat was the one beside me. I smiled at him and shoved over on the bench, making room. He sat down, looking like he sort of wished he could slide under the table and disappear.

Liam and Niall were still carrying on about the gig, somewhere between conversing and arguing, and Harry joined in hurriedly and abruptly, making a comment that did little to progress the discussion. I grinned at my tray.

“Who’ll sing?” Niall asked, looking at Harry and I, “Will it trade off between the two of you, like we do? Should we just have one lead singer? Most bands only have one lead singer, right? Is that important, do you think?”

“I wouldn’t mind if Harry took my parts,” I said, leaning on my elbow and smiling over at him, my head tilted.

He opened his mouth and sputtered for a moment before saying, “No, no, Lou– Louis– you should, um. I don’t need to be the lead. Singer. We don’t need a lead singer. Louis should sing.”

Liam rose a brow at him.

“I really don’t mind, Haz,” I said, reaching out under the table and brushing my thumb on his thigh. His leg jutted up, his knee connecting harshly with the bottom of the table. He cringed slightly and then took a shaky breath, looking away from me. I took my hand back.

We all sat there in silence for a moment, before Niall started babbling again, chewing on his nails nervously as he did.

“Harry,” a voice said, and Harry and I turned to the sound. Amy smiled at him and walked up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

I stared at my tray, thinking maybe I could sort of eat my food with my eyes if I glared hard enough.

“Hey, Amy,” Harry said, his voice unreadable, maybe relieved, probably relieved. He glanced over at me and then quickly back at her, giving her a smile, so sweet and unhesitant and I knew what it felt like, that smile, those lips, I knew what they felt like, I knew what they tasted like, and Amy didn’t. Maybe.

Maybe she did.

Maybe she knew better.

“We were just talking about a gig we might have coming up,” Harry said, “You want to come, if it works out?”

“Oh, I’d love to!” she said, beaming. She sat down on Harry’s leg, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, and my own thigh and waist felt abruptly cold, or maybe hot. Bad. Melting.

“I’m One Direction’s biggest fan,” she said.

Liam laughed, “Well, thank you! We appreciate that!”

She laughed too, they all did, and I tried to think if anything funny had been said, but I couldn’t come up with a thing.

Harry looked over at me, just for a second, and my eyes instinctively fell to his mouth, which parted, just slightly, and I remembered again, that I knew. I knew that it was soft but firm, yielding but unflinching. I knew his _taste_.

I smiled at Amy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *blushing intensifies*  
> *my own blushing*  
> *I'm so embarrassed right now*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Maddie

Harry avoided my eyes all through practice and, breaking with recent tradition, didn’t invite me to stay after. Niall walked down the driveway with me after Harry’d gone into his house. “Is Harry mad at you?” he whispered, “Did the two of you get in a riff?”

“We’re not in Westside Story, Niall,” I said.

He laughed. “Hey, no need to poke fun.”

“But you make it so easy.”

Niall laughed again and waved as he continued down the drive. I got in my car and sat there for a minute, just staring at Harry’s house, Harry’s window, Harry’s garage, the wall he’d pressed me against.

I backed down the driveway.

 

*

 

“Hey, Tomlinson.”

I nodded at Jackson, a basketball player in my AP English class who had Byron lines tattooed on his biceps.

“I hear you’re in a band.”

“I hear you’re on a sports team?”

He grinned. “What kind of music do you guys play?”

“Good question. Not country.”

“Good enough.”

I laughed.

“You guys have any shows? My girl’s always trying to get me to take her to see live music, but everyone around here sucks, dude.”

“Aw, that’s not fair. I think those one guys are pretty Ok. You know. The band with the bearded lead singer?”

“Dude, it’s the beard I don’t like, man. I don’t like it.”

I laughed. “We’re supposed to have a gig coming up. Not sure yet. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Do that,” he said, smacking my arm in approval and turning away from me.

I looked down at my notebook for a moment, then turned abruptly back toward him.

“Hey, Jackson.”

He turned to me again.

“Your girl is Sarah, right? You’re dating Sarah Voss?”

“Yup.”

He raised an eyebrow when I didn’t say anything further, just sat thinking of what to say. “Uh, I just wanted to ask, uh… how did you, you know… um…”

His eyebrow climbed higher.

“Just like, how did you ask her out, I guess. Or how did you… I don’t know.”

He grinned wide. “Well, well,” he said, “Have you found yourself a little lady, Tomlinson?”

I pressed my lips together, “Something like that.”

“Has she shown any interest in you?”

I took in a shaky breath and nodded once.

“Then you’re set, man. You’re a handsome guy. Just go for it.”

“But what does that–”

“You look nervous, man. Don’t be. Don’t think too much, you know?” I must have looked unconvinced, because he went on, “Listen, I wanted to date Sarah, so I went to her, I said, if you’re free, and think I could keep you entertained for the length of a meal, I’d like to take you out. I said some line about free food, you know. I just told her I wanted to date, and look. Now we’re dating. It’s not complicated, man. I don’t know why people have to make it so complicated when it’s not.”

I stared at him. “You’re right.”

“’Course I’m right.” He grinned, “Tomlinson’s got a lady. It’s about time those peepers got some appreciation.” He laughed, “If you can’t get some, none of us can, pretty boy.”

He turned away from me again.

 

*

 

“Can I come to your place after school, Haz?” I asked the moment he joined Liam and I at our lunch table. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to reply just as Niall slid in beside him.

“So Liam, what’s the word?” Niall asked, his sandwich already half in his mouth before he’d even fully sat down.

Liam rubbed his hands together excitedly. “It’s official, gang.” I rose a brow, suppressing a Fred Jones comparison comment. “We’re playing at the Barn this Saturday, eleven PM.”

“ _Saturday_?” Niall squeaked. “Liam! It’s Thursday now!”

“So?”

“So!” Niall exclaimed. “So!”

“What?” Liam said.

Niall looked like he might bite his head off.

Harry stared at the two of them in silence, his eyebrows high on his forehead as they argued.

“Harry,” I said.

He turned to me, eyebrows immediately lowering. He set his eyes on the table and swallowed shallowly, like he thought I might not notice.

As if he’d ever done anything I didn’t notice.

“Can I come over?”

He looked up at me.

“Can I come home with you?”

I don’t know why I said that, why I added that, why I phrased it that way. I felt my cheeks heating immediately, but he just nodded, his face forcibly blank, and swallowed again.

I bit my bottom lip in a smile.

 

*

 

“You hungry?” Harry asked as I let the front door close behind us.

“I could use some victuals.”

“Ok, Dimmesdale,” he said in a laugh. It cut off halfway and he glanced over his shoulder at me before hurrying forward.

He opened the fridge. “We have… oranges? Strawberries. Ban–” he cut himself off, cleared his throat, and rushed on, “Uh, apples, and, uh, watermelon.”

“Watermelon, yes. I’d shoot up with watermelon juice if I could.”

He laughed and shut the fridge, still facing away from me. “Watermelon it is.”

Harry’s mom came into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of me. “Hello there, Louis.”

“Hello, Mrs. Styles.”

She shook her head at me and looked toward Harry with a smile, “How many times have I told him to stop that? Didn’t I tell you to tell him to call me Anne, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “I’ve told him, mom.”

“Sorry, Anne.” I grinned.

She beamed at pat my arm, taking a slice of watermelon as Harry cut it. “I’m going out,” she said, “You boys be good.”

“Aren’t we always?” I said, tilting my head at her with a smile.

She shook her head, chuckling, and headed out.

Harry looked at me for a moment before sliding a plate of watermelon over toward me. He grabbed one and leaned against the counter facing the fridge, and I stared at his profile with abandon, watermelon juice dripping down my chin in place of drool.

He glanced at me and his cheeks heated, then he wiped at his chin, and I mimicked the action before sucking at the back of my hand, cleaning the stickiness. He turned his whole body away from me abruptly and turned on the sink, rinsing his hands.

When we’d finished, I followed him into his room.

He settled at the head of his bed and I at the end, leaning against the footboard and draping an arm over my raised knee.

He met my eyes for just a second before dragging his backpack up onto the bed.

“So,” I said, elongating the ‘o’.

He shuffled, unzipping his bag and starting to empty its contents onto the bed with seemingly little rhyme or reason.

“Did you make a move on Amy yet?”

He stared at me. “What?”

“Amy,” I said again.

He narrowed his eyes at me and tilted his head almost imperceptibly. I bit my tongue inside my mouth to keep my grin from making it to my lips.

“I–” he looked down, looked at his hands, which faced up purposelessly, as if confused and anxious themselves. Then he ran one through his hair and said, in a rush, “No, I mean, Amy, I haven’t, not yet, she’s, you know, I… she’s not– I mean, not, she’s, no she is, I–”

I moved so my body weight rested entirely on my calves and placed a hand just above his right ankle. His eyes shot open and his head shot up, and he stared at me, his mouth fell open, he didn’t seem to breathe.

I moved my hand up, just below his knee, so I barely avoided getting my thumb tangled the in the loose strings just below the hole revealing his warm skin. I kept my eyes on his, my face blank. Then I moved my hand up to his thigh and swallowed at the same time that I let my tongue slide over my bottom lip.

His breath came back, jagged and loud, and he caught it halfway through, his cheeks redder than I’d ever seen them, and he dropped his eyes from me, obviously humiliated and as shocked as I was at the helpless noise.

I grinned fully, then, and moved forward in one quick motion to pin him down on the bed. He stared at me, and I at him, and his chest rose and fell rapidly, like the flapping of a butterfly’s wings. Then his eyelids fluttered closed and his lips parted just barely to whisper, “Louis…” and my throat dislodged a gruff, almost fiendish sound, and I dropped down onto him, my legs on his legs, my hips on his hips, my stomach on his stomach, my chest on his chest and my mouth on his mouth.

I tangled my hands in his hair and he gripped at the fabric on my back. I pressed my knee into him and he brought one long, skinny leg up to wrap around my entire torso, whimpering into my mouth and convulsing against me as I bit at his ridiculously full lower lip and pressed my tongue under his upper lip, onto his teeth and up, then into his mouth, where I tasted his tongue, that lashed out at mine as a suddenly low, growl-like noise seemed to climb up from his toes and make its way up his whole body, making impact on every spot on my skin before escaping into my mouth. I shuddered and a little sob came out in a quick breath as he took my lower lip between his teeth and nibbled at it, grinning– I could actually feel his grin.

He pulled away from me and I dropped down to bury my face in the pillow beside his shoulder, mortified.

“Lou?” he said, “Louis, did you just… was that crying?”

I didn’t say anything, shaking my head against the pillow.

“Are you alright, Lou? Louis?”

“I’m fine,” I said, my breath trembling as my body followed suit, my hands vibrating like a phone on silent, so I had to move them away from his skin, onto the duvet, in hopes that he wouldn’t notice. “I’m _fine_.” I laughed a little. It was something pretty far beyond an understatement.

He moved to sit up, so I had to get off the pillow, so I ended up sitting straight above him, straddling his torso. I felt like an idiot. I debated whether I should pretend the tears weren’t there or wipe them away as quickly and subtly as possible so he wouldn’t be able to watch their trails make their way down my face. I palmed at them hurriedly, and he caught my hands in his, so enormous and soft, and I felt tiny above him, I felt so stupid and warm and happy and hot and dumb.

“What’s wrong, Louis?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“But–”

“Nothing could be further from wrong.”

He turned pink and I smiled and laughed. “I did that,” I said, cupping his cheeks in my hands despite myself, and though I was still buzzing with equal parts arousal and humiliation. “You’re blushing because of me.”

He stared at me, and slowly, a smile, total, wide, and genuine, the most genuine smile I’d ever seen, spread across his face. His dimples indented his cheeks and I leaned forward without thought or hesitation to kiss each in turn.

“Why did you cry?” he whispered, like he didn’t want to disturb my movements, didn’t want me to move away. His hands gripped at my hips, just tucking under the fabric to get at little bits of my skin, and I felt all my blood rush confusedly from there to my lips and back and back again as I kissed around his face in slow, deliberate motions.

“I missed you,” I said, “I reverse-missed you. Or I warped-missed you, or something.”

“What?” he laughed.

“You were there,” I said, kissing his eyelids, which fluttered shut and then open again to stare up at me with what I couldn’t deny any longer was total adoration, “But I couldn’t get at you, I couldn’t let myself– you know. I told myself I wanted to be your friend.”

Harry nodded.

“You’re a lousy, friend, though,” I said, and he laughed and smacked me lightly. I grinned and pulled back, cupping his face in my hands still and tilting my head to look down at him fully and smile back at his wide smile. “It was only a matter of time ’til I stopped putting up with it.”

“I’m a great friend,” he said.

“Oh, just the worst,” I said, and leaned in to kiss him again, his eyelids shutting readily as his smile parted to make room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluffier than a bunny

Liam texted to say he’d be over soon, so Harry and I went out to the garage. I settled against the wall as Liam rolled up, smirking at the floor and then at Harry as he desperately met my eyes, clearly lost on how to proceed.

“Hey, guys,” Liam said, setting his skateboard up against the wall opposite me. He rubbed his palms together, lit up with anticipation, “You guys been preparing for our gig?”

Harry’s blush was neither subtle nor slow, but Niall arrived before either of us were forced to respond. He and Liam picked up their arguing almost before he’d closed the car door behind him.

“Well, there’s no point in arguing now,” Harry cut in after a while, thought it was evident from the relief in his stance that he’d appreciated the distraction. “The gig’s set, right? So we should just practice.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, and Harry’s cooled face vanished again, so he kind of looked like Rudolph. I bit my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh out loud.

“Yea,” Niall sighed. “You’re right,” though he glared at Liam still. Liam just smirked.

“Listen,” he said, “I just figured, why wait?”

 

*

 

Friday we all went home with Harry after school, practicing for uninterrupted hours and hours until Anne finally peaked her head into the garage, her expression weary. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she said. “Why don’t you boys come inside?”

Obediently, we followed Anne into the house, the noise of drums and guitar strings and singing replaced with out babbling voices as we dropped onto Harry’s couch and finally all engaged excitedly in discussing our first performance. We’d assembled a set list, but as we no longer had instruments to distract us, argument quickly broke out over whether we’d made the right decisions, whether it was more important to start strong or end strong, whether we should leave our more slow songs our all together, whether our audience would care or respond to lyrics at all or whether they’d become arbitrary.

The conversation went on into dinner, with Anne dropping in her opinion here and there and often causing us to pause and reassess everything we’d decided thus far. Then we laid sleeping bags and blankets and pillows out on the living room floor and the arguments changed to center around Netflix selections.

When a movie was finally put on, we laid down with out pillows leaning against the back of the couch and popcorn bowls in our laps. I laid sandwiched between Harry and Niall, and as the move began, I slipped my hand under a blanket and reached for Harry’s.

He froze as I wrapped my fingers around his, and glanced hurriedly first at me and then at Liam, on his other side, and then at Niall. When it was clear he was the only one not looking at the screen, he loosened and seemed draped over the ground like a curtain or a tablecloth. He laced his fingers through mine and I smiled, I just smiled, because I was happy and I didn’t care.

 

*

 

Niall snored, sort of leaning on me as the credits of our second movie rolled. Liam was asleep, too, his mouth wide open as he sucked in quiet breaths. But Harry seemed too still for sleep, though his eyes were closed and his breaths rhythmic.

I looked at him for a while, his long eyelashes, his warm cheeks, his soft hair tangled and splayed out on the pillow. His lips… just barely parted, so beautiful, red and full and breathing.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

I threw my eyes to the ceiling but didn't drop my lids.

“Mhm,” I muttered.

He turned his face to me, blinking slow and smiling slow, and yawned. “Sleepy,” he said.

I smiled.

He yawned again and gave me a look of some tired confusion, maybe because I didn’t catch that yawn and throw it back.

“I’m not tired,” I said.

“Really?” he asked.

I leaned down and softly, quietly, carefully kissed him. I tasted his sleepy smile on my mouth as I pulled away, licking my lips.

“Not at all,” I said, and he giggled, yawned, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is the shortest of All. I just thought it worked best on its own. I Am Sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKnd_afVmiM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you want like ~full immersion~ or whatever here's what I listened to while writing (some) of this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qFWQQZ_wM0

We practiced all morning and into the afternoon, at which point we decided it might be best to take a break before the show, mostly so Harry and I didn’t fry our voices before we could even perform. We settled in Harry’s living room again with a bag of barbecue chips and a half-full package of Oreos and watched the Stephen King movie they were playing on TV. I almost nuzzled into Harry’s side before catching myself and drawing back, into the cushion, and crossing my arms over my chest. The time passed slowly as I stared at the space between us.

 

*

 

I almost could have forgotten that Harry wasn’t just mine, that he was everyone’s, he in love with the world and the world in love with him, until we got on stage. The relatively mellow audience was abruptly shouting and jumping, so the place could have been a stadium rather than a dingy bar converted from a barn.

Harry moved and danced and teased the crowd with all the confidence and stage sexuality of a seasoned performer. I was glad for my bass, for the excuse to stand still, because looking at him, I felt immoveable, like I was no longer a person with limbs and faculties and the capability of motion. I was a portrait, painted with my eyes focused on Harry forever. At one point he glanced over his shoulder and gave me a wink, and I was no better than the screaming middle schoolers who had pushed forward to be closest to the stage. I almost collapsed.

“That was fantastic!” Liam shouted. Niall nodded in agreement, his smile somehow seeming bigger than his face. We were all buzzing, standing near the bar as a crowd of nervous girls slowly inched their way towards Harry.

“Harry!” he added. “You were incredible! Just incredible! Where did that come from, man?” He was positively beaming.

Harry shrugged one shoulder, quietly grinning. I still couldn’t stop staring at him. His hair was slick with sweat, his shirt, too, clung to him, damp and dark. That of his chest that I could see was dripping. I closed my eyes and didn’t open them again ’til I’d turned my head away.

“We should go dancing,” Niall said. Harry rose a brow at him and looked out across the barn. There were plenty of people dancing here, but it was hardly a club.

“Yea,” I agreed abruptly. “Let’s go.”

Harry looked at me and smiled.

 

*

 

We couldn’t drink, given the club was 18+ (neither I nor Harry had fakes, or if he did, he didn't have it on him,) but the music was loud enough and it was crowded enough and hot enough that I felt pleasantly light-headed nonetheless.

They were playing Kesha when we walked in, and I felt young and stupid but I also kind of couldn’t stop smiling. Niall was screaming and jumping already, and Liam headed straight for the virgin bar, where he slid up next to a girl with colored streaks in her hair. She looked like Avril Lavigne.

Harry stared at the crowd of bodies, unmoving, and glanced over at me. He looked nervous, uncertain. I looked once more toward Niall and Liam, making sure they weren’t looking our way, then took Harry’s hand in mine and dragged him into the crowd, forward, forward, until we were as far from the other boys as possible, almost pushed up against the opposite wall. The song ended and something louder that I didn’t recognize came on, the bass pulsing so loud I could feel it under my skin, could feel the roots of my teeth inside my gums. Harry grinned and started swaying his hips, as if unconsciously, leaning back and closing his eyes, wrapping his arms behind his head as his hips continued to move. I moved in as the noise increased and slowed, anticipating the bass drop, and put a hand on each hip, pressed in and pushed his shirt up so my palms were flat against his skin.

The bass did drop, and Harry screamed with excitement and started to jump and thrash, his torso moving while his hips stayed still and then his hips moving while his torso stayed still, all under my hands as I moved with him, trying to pay as little attention to my own movements as possible so I wouldn’t interrupt the heat rising in me with embarrassment. I brought him up against me, til I could feel his hips not just with my hands but my own hips, and I leaned forward a moment to bite at his chin, and his mouth moved like he’d let out a noise, but I couldn’t hear it, couldn’t hear anything, really. The music had become more of a sensation of touch than one of sound, and in fact all my other senses were lost to touch, as my skin was fire under my clothes, pressed against Harry’s and moving and all the while electrified and shaking everywhere along with the bass traveling up from the floor and the walls and the air.

Harry met my eyes and the music dropped for just a second, and I heard him take in a breath just as I did, and he leaned in toward me as the music rose again, like a wave, and crashed over the dance floor as his mouth met mine and we might have been screaming into each other’s mouths and no one would know, it was so loud. We kissed and moved and danced and laughed and jumped and jumped, our hands in the air, and I couldn’t decide whether I felt more aroused or amused, whether I needed to find somewhere to collapse so I could get enough laughter out of me to make my body ache for days, or whether I needed to find somewhere to make Harry collapse, so his body would ache for days.

I kissed him again at that thought and his tongue met mine and I pressed him into me and felt more than ever like a cannibal, with this hunger for his skin rising in me, and then he laughed into my mouth and I laughed back and it switched back again. I was so happy, so awake.

After a while he leaned toward me and screamed into my ear, cupping his huge hand around it to block some of the noise so I might hear him, “Do you think the boys will care if we ditch them?”

I beamed wide and leaned back toward him, screaming back, “I couldn’t care less,” and taking his hand as he offered it to me and dragged me back towards the doors.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weighty stroking  
> leaden patting  
> hefty caressing  
> haha  
> heavy petting

He closed the door behind me, his hand over my shoulder, and stared at me as he backed toward the bed. He didn’t flick on the light as he went, stepping out of his shoes, so I could see him only where the moonlight allowed it, shadows playing over him as he pulled himself up on the bed and drew his legs in toward himself. I moved forward, my footfalls slow and leaden, my breathing low and uneven. I couldn’t feel my body, my eyes locked on his so it sort of felt like I’d vanished into the blacks of his eyes. The floor between us wasn’t long enough, so I was right in front of him before I was ready, my already unsteady breath catching in my throat as the heat of his body rushed out and over mine, making me feel unstable on my feet, like I might fall onto him or into him, collapse into somewhere impossible to return from. I reached out and ran my hands through his curls, my fingers digging into his skin and tugging, so he shuddered and whimpered. I pushed him back on the mattress, his arms sliding up from his side and landing with his hands near each other above him as he stared up at me where I now balanced over him. I looked down and thought I could stare at him forever, the night illuminating his face carefully, as a delicate, ancient work of art, sensitive to light. His lips were lit up from underneath, open and breathing, and I could see a divot where his teeth had dug in too roughly. I could see his tongue where it sat just behind his teeth, and I wanted to bite it, taste it, pull it into my mouth, but I waited.

Carefully, slowly, I slid my hands up his torso and then over, meeting in the middle, at his top button. He stared up at me still, motionless and full of movement all at the same time, shaking slightly but lying totally static. Suddenly, his lips twitched a bit, up into the slightest shadow of a smile, and I grinned and slipped my fingers around his button, pushing it out and dipping down abruptly, kissing his disclosed chest softly, so he gasped and sighed, a soft smile crawling onto his face. I watched the smile, and just as it was finishing, calm and content, I slipped my tongue out and licked one long line, from the lowest point of his chest currently revealed to just below his chin, and he gasped louder, harsher this time, a noise climbing up and out of his mouth like there was gravel in his throat. I bit at his chin again and then quickly resumed my unbuttoning until the whole shirt was open, splayed out on either side of him on the duvet, and his chest was bare, his skin, before me, barely lit, looking smooth and inflexible, like a tightly wound bandage. I found myself smiling, almost giddy, and I brought my hands down on him to run up and down his torso just as Harry jerkily managed, “I ha-have… I have four nipples.”

I stared down at him and quirked an eyebrow, realizing the truth of the statement.

“You know,” I said, “I’d heard that.”

He laughed, but it was breathy and uneven. “Heard? What? From who?”

“Some cheerleader or other,” I said, curt and stiff.

“Oh?” he said, quirking a brow himself and grinning at the expression on my face, hopefully not the blush, which he probably couldn’t make out in the dim lighting.

“Maybe someone saw it in the locker room,” I muttered.

“Maybe,” he laughed.

I leaned down to lick again, and quickly shut him up.

My tongue started lower now, right above the waistband of his jeans, and didn't stop until it was in his mouth, where he panted against me, and I grinned and took his bottom lip between my teeth.

“…Louis,” he whispered.

That was all it took for me. A sharp, shaky breath rushed out of my mouth, and I kind of fell on top of him, and then I could feel the heat of his skin with one less layer of boundary between us, and we kissed desperately and dumbly, gripping at each other backs, each other’s hair, each other’s arms, huffing into each other’s mouths and squeezing our eyes closed, shuddering and shivering and shaking against each other as I bit him and he bit me and his tongue tasted mine and my tongue tasted him. I kissed him until my lower body was screaming out in anguish, then pulled back in a rush and kissed more, down his side, his breath unquiet and no longer uncertain, even in its quivering, his hands entangled in my hair as I reached his pelvis and kissed him right where the bone jutted out, then pulled away, so he whimpered at the loss of my mouth, before coming down again on the opposite side, sucking at the skin which seemed to just barely protect that again jutting bone from the air of the world outside. I sucked and kissed and bit and licked right there, back and forth along that trail, just above the elastic of his boxers, 'til he was groaning and growling and whining at me, pulling at my hair and pushing at my head, trying to move me down even as he said, over and over, “You don’t have to, you don’t have to, we can stop, we can stop–”

“Harry!”

We both shot up, in one fluid motion, and our breaths caught in our throats and we stared at each other in something like horror.

“Harry!” his mom called again, “Is Louis here with you? I bought you boys hot chocolate mix and mini marshmallows!”

Harry’s distress vanished from his eyes as they lit up and his shoulders shook with restrained laughter. I laughed too, one loud, quick burst, and he slapped his palm over my mouth and shook his head, beaming.

“Yea!” he called. “He’s here! Thanks, mom! He says he’d love some hot chocolate!”

I nearly fell off the bed from the way my body shuddered with the suppressed hysterics, and I leaned forward, into him, and whispered into his shoulder, “I can’t imagine anything I’d like to taste more.”

He growled at me and jumped off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so short but like I'm also not that sorry because like... ;)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who needs labels anyways

“Louis!” Niall called. I turned toward him as he hurried down the hall toward me.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Want to grab lunch off campus today? At that café down the street?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. “Are the boys coming too?”

“Oh,” he said. “No, I don’t think so. Liam’s sitting with his other friends and Harry had to go to a meeting.”

“Oh,” I said, “Ok, sure. Let’s go.”

Niall beamed at me.

The door rang behind us and I followed Niall toward the front counter, where we ordered sandwiches and lattes and sat down at a little round table, facing each other. The café was warm and smelled sweet, like fresh bread and maple syrup. They were playing soft, acoustic music and the place was just the right amount of crowded, so it felt like you could talk without fear of being overheard.

“So,” Niall said, like he’d been waiting to say it.

I rose my eyebrows.

“We lost you and Harry Saturday night,” he said.

I felt my cheeks heating and coughed as I put my hands around my mug. “Oh, yea,” I said, but before I could go on, he cut in.

“I saw you two leave together.”

I nodded hurriedly. “Uh, yea,” I said. “He just, uh, Harry was, he needed some air. So we just went outside to, you know. And then we decided we’d just call it a night.”

“Right,” Niall said, nodding sagely, a smug smile starting to inch onto his face. “So you just parted ways, then?”

“Um.”

“Or you went to his place?”

“No,” I said, and he rose a brow.

“Really?” he said. “Quite a walk to your house from that club.”

“No,” I said again, “Uh, yea, no, we went to his place.”

He nodded, grinning.

“His mom,” I said, feeling my face as if I’d spilled the scalding coffee all over it, hot and red and kind of buzzing, “His mom… made us hot chocolate.”

He quirked a brow and hid his grin behind his mug, blowing softly and taking a long drink before saying, “How sweet of her.”

I nodded and hastily changed the subject, but Niall’s face remained smug for the whole lunch period.

 

*

 

Niall grabbed me on my way out of the school and asked for a ride to Harry’s. We pulled onto Harry’s street in silence and I shut my door behind me and hurried up the driveway ahead of him, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, there you are!” Harry called out. He smiled at me and then looked toward Niall curiously. “Didn’t see you two at lunch today.”

I froze and turned toward Niall. Now his were the heated cheeks.

“Oh yea,” Liam said. He grinned and said with a laugh, “The two of you sneaking off together somewhere?”

Harry choked a bit and Niall let out a quick, bursting laugh before hurriedly clamping his mouth shut, pressing his lips together tight. Liam rose his brow in confusion.

“ _Niall_ ,” I said, glaring at him, “and I had lunch off campus today. At Café Toulouse.”

“Oh?” Harry said, tilting his head.

Niall nodded.

“Didn’t want us there, Nialler?” Liam asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Thought you guys were busy,” Niall muttered.

“What made you think that?” Harry asked, genuinely baffled.

“Anyway,” I said. “Great show Saturday, boys, right?”

“Absolutely!” Liam enthused. “I’ve actually just been talking to some guys from downtown, and they say we might be able to get in at–” He carried on excitedly and Niall joined in quickly as Harry glanced over at me, still curious and confused.

I winked at him and picked up my bass.

 

*

 

“You have such beautiful eyelashes.”

He said it dazedly, as if he didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud. I blushed and bit my bottom lip into my mouth to fight off a smile. I didn’t respond, thinking maybe he really didn’t mean to say it, but then he went on.

“And eyes. And lips. And hands.” At this he lifted my hand up with his and enveloped it in his enormous fingers. I felt a warmth in my chest that spread out and around me ’til I felt equally like laughing and crying.

He put a hand in my hair and lightly ran his fingers through it over and over. I closed my eyes and leaned back into his hold. “Harry…” I said, somewhat involuntarily.

He leaned down and kissed me, kissed my lips, my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids, my forehead, my temples. I felt a dampness on my cheeks and desperately hoped he wouldn’t notice or comment. But he did, he leaned down and kissed the tears off of my cheek, and I opened my eyes so that I could see them on his lips. He smiled at me, his dimples deep and so unbearably cute, and I started laughing, a laugh that felt infinite as it rattled my body, and he lay with his head on my chest and looked up at me, beaming, as I laughed and laughed and ran my fingers through his long, soft hair, that hair I’d stared at for so long, wondering how it felt. Now I knew. I knew and I didn’t want to ever stop running my hands through its length.

“Louis,” he whispered.

My laughing petered off, so I was just smiling and petting him, and then I pulled him up and over me, because I wanted to kiss him, I had to kiss him.

His mouth was so soft, and I moved my lips slowly against his, and our smiles met each other and molded each other and I was laughing again, and he was too.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered.

I just nodded.

After a moment, Harry rolled off of me and raised himself up on his elbow. “So,” he said, “What was up with Niall today?”

“Ah,” I said.

“You guys just went to Café Toulouse together?” he asked.

“I think he knows,” I said.

“What?”

“I’m almost positive he knows, actually.”

“Knows what?”

“Uh, about…” I trailed off, finding heat rising in my cheeks as I suddenly realized I wasn’t quite sure what to call us, or what we were doing, or what Niall knew about. I’d been so happy that Harry evidently returned my feelings that I hadn’t thought ahead at all. It didn’t even occur to me.

“About us.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he said. His eyes were wide and he sat up fully, looking down at me as I looked back up at him, now incapable of thinking besides, what are we? What do you think we are?

“Is that… are you…” he trailed off, turned his gaze away from me, toward the floor. He cleared his throat. “That’s bad, right?”

I blinked. “Oh,” I said.

“I mean,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, suddenly reddening and stiffening, seeming a totally different Harry before me to the one a moment ago who’d been kissing every inch of my face. “You don’t…” he trailed off, didn’t say anything else.

“I don’t?” I asked.

“You don’t want us to… be public, or anything.” He stared at his feet, which he’d drawn in towards himself. “You’re not out, or anything.”

Amazed, I sat up. “Are _you_ out?” I asked.

He looked up at me and rose a brow. “Um,” he said, “I’m co-president of the GSA. …My cover photo on Facebook is the bisexual pride flag.”

I gaped at him.

He stared at me. “I wear floral, silk, pink button downs to school,” he said. “And heeled boots.”

I blinked.

“My hair is down to my shoulders,” he said.

“But,” I said, “you’re… so popular.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m great,” he said. “And I dated the head cheerleader when she was a junior and I was a freshmen. Girls say I’m hot, I guess. And for some reason people think I have a lot of sex.”

“You _don’t_?”

He laughed. “I mean, when I’m in a relationship, I guess, but I’ve only had two serious girlfriends. And I haven’t even had a boyfriend.” He looked at me and turned bright red. “Um, I mean… until now. I mean,” he buried his head in his hands, and, sounding strangled, “I mean, if that’s, if you, uh. I.”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” I said.

He looked up at me and smiled wide.

“I don’t…” I sighed and looked down at my hands. “You’re right,” I said. “I’m not out.”

He nodded. “You don’t have to come out for me,” he said. “I don’t mind, you know. Dating in secret, or whatever. Whatever you need.”

“It’s not that I…” I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. “I want to come out, you know? It feels stupid. The closet feels so antiquated and pointless. I don’t even care.” I bit my lip. “But my mom…”

He took a breath and nodded. “She’s worried about you?” he asked.

“Someone found out I was gay at my old school,” I said, staring at the bed covers. “Uh, not someone. One of my best friends. And he told everybody. And I got pretty, you know. Pretty bruised up, and all that.” I laughed a little, because what are you supposed to do when talking about something like that.

I glanced at Harry and he looked anguished. I shook my head at him and took his hand in mine. “It really wasn’t that bad,” I said. “It’s not like I’d even never been beat up before, you know? I mean, look at me. I’m like pocket-sized. That’s reason enough for some people, you know.”

He cringed.

“My mom just thought it was, like, the start of something. I think she’s watched to many Lifetime movies, to be honest.” I laughed.

“Is that why you transferred here?” Harry asked.

I nodded.

He shook his head, looking sad and tired. “That’s terrible, Lou. I’m so sorry.”

“I want to come out,” I said, sitting up fully, straightening my shoulders. He rose a brow. I shrugged. “So what if I get a little bruised, you know? I’d rather be honest.”

“Are you sure, Louis?”

I nodded, then grinned. “Besides,” I said. “Maybe your astounding popularity will protect me.”

He grinned and brushed his hair dramatically over his shoulder. “What can I say,” he said, “If you got it…”

I laughed and tackled him to the mattress, kissing the laugh out of his mouth.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> does anyone remember that scene in the Twilight movie where Edward and Bella got out of his car and he was wearing Ray Bans and she's like "Everyone's staring" and he's like "Not that guy" but then he's like "No, he just looked"  
> I worked really hard for this to not be that

I answered my phone as I stuffed my notebook into my backpack.

“Hello?”

“Louis,” a voice said.

“Harry?” I asked, confused.

“Hey.”

“Um, why are you calling me right now?”

“I’m outside.”

“What?”

“Your house. I’m here to pick you up.”

I walked toward the window and looked down to see his car there in my driveway.

“Oh man,” I said, laughing.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is just so Twilight.”

 

*

 

I split off from him as soon as we entered the school to stop at the restroom and my locker before class, but he was waiting there by the door when class ended.

“Hey,” I said, surprised.

“Hey,” he said. He leaned toward me, cutting off my footsteps just as I moved to go into the hallway. “Can I hold your hand?” he whispered.

My breath caught and I felt my heart banging in my chest as if he’d leapt out at me.

I nodded.

He slipped his hand onto mine and intertwined his long fingers with mine before walking on.

I stared at him as we went down the hall, the little smile tugging at the side of his mouth and the rising, giddy heat in his cheeks.

When I finally looked away, I remembered the rest of the world.

It wasn’t like everyone was staring– most people probably didn’t even notice, we were hardly sucking face against the lockers like straight people do. Those who did glance down and see our interlocked hands had varying responses, but none were all together extreme.

A few girls widened their eyes and one drew her friend toward her to whisper animatedly. A few guys also had wide eyes and then quickly looked away. One guy scoffed and made a gagging noise, but walked past us without violence. A girl in knee socks not-so-subtly took a picture of us on her phone.

That was it. It felt about the same as the reaction we might receive if one of us had dyed our hair a weird color or worn some sort of offensive shirt. Maybe it was the relative liberalism of the school and the town. Maybe it was Harry’s status as a sort of icon on that campus. Maybe some combination, or maybe something else all together.

“You’re smiling,” Harry said.

“Yea,” I said. “I am.”

 

*

 

Liam stared at us as we approached our table. Niall looked ready to guffaw. “Um,” Liam said, his eyes on our hands.

“That’s it, lads,” Niall said, standing to clap me on the back.

Liam stared at his tray.

“Liam?” Harry said.

Liam stood and cleared his throat. “I’ve got to meet with the college advisor,” he said. “I’ll see you guys later.”

We stared after him. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Niall cut him off.

“If he doesn’t come to practice today,” he said, “he’s out of the band.”

Harry and I stared at him in surprise.

“I–” Harry started. But I interrupted with a loud laugh.

 

*

 

I felt silly, all of us watching Liam trudge up the driveway with his skateboard under his arm. I remembered Stan avoiding my gaze in our last class, avoiding meeting my black eye. The teacher sent me to the nurse. Stan offered to take me. He asked if I was Ok, I said fine. He didn’t say anything else, he never tried to talk to me when I transferred. We were still Facebook friends. I didn’t feel mad at him. Didn’t think he owed me anything. I certainly felt I owed nothing to him.

Liam leaned his skateboard against the wall. I wished we could just skip to being Facebook friends.

“So,” he said before anyone else could speak. “You two are a thing.”

Harry nodded immediately. I felt a little grin just behind my lips.

Liam sighed, and Niall looked ready to pummel him to the ground. I shot Niall a warning look, and he relaxed his shoulders slightly.

“Just…” Liam said. “We’re not gonna break up, are we? If you guys break up?”

I stared at him, confounded, and then folded over, into myself, in a hysterical laugh.

When I uncurled, everyone was grinning but Liam, who stared at us with his brows drawn together.

Harry patted Liam on the back. “Liam,” he said, pointing to me. “That little gnome is my best friend, man. He’s always gonna be my best friend. This band’s not breaking up until one of us gets fed up with your crappy drumming.”

Liam grinned and I beamed and Niall laughed. “All right, all right,” Liam said, walking behind his drums. “No need to be rude.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!! Sorry this took so long. Finals, you know.

Harry’s mom was out, the street was quiet and dark. Liam had gone home, and Niall had fallen asleep on the couch inside. Harry and I had taken a cushion from that couch and laid with our heads resting on it on the driveway. We stared up at the sky, but the clouds blocked out the stars, so it was like we’d gone to the Louvre and found a cloth over the Mona Lisa, but we couldn’t move, we couldn’t leave, and we kind of didn’t mind, like looking at the shape of the painting under its curtain was enough.

“Do you remember,” Harry said, turning his head to look at me, and I stared back, my eyes busily carving into his sharp chin, his soft hair, his huge hands and his pink cheeks and his red lips and his long eyelashes and his green, beautiful, eyes, which, for so long, I could only look at for seconds at a time, for fear he’d notice me staring. I bathed in them now, I let them swallow me whole, so I could feel the driveway, hard and smooth below me, I knew it was there, but I was also entirely positive that I was in the sea, sinking slowly and swiftly, and smiling all along, as in the green depths I vanished, and came up again with the ability to breathe underwater. “When we went down to the lake for bio? To get samples of the water and analyze the microbes or whatever, under the microscope?”

I nodded.

“You went right down to the water and you took your shoes off and you waded out. Everyone else kind of hesitated, like, we weren’t sure whether we were supposed to actually go in the water or just, like, you know. But you just went right down and went in and you didn’t even get right to gathering samples or anything. You just kind of stood there ankle-deep in the water for a while. And then you turned and you called to me to come in. And when I did you still just stood there until everyone else followed your lead, and then you, like, remembered what you were supposed to be doing.”

I stared at him, eyes wide. He swallowed. “You remember that?” he asked.

I nodded again.

“That’s when I started to fall in love with you, I think. That’s when it got worse, at least.”

He turned to me again, at some point he’d looked away. I swallowed hard and I reached out and put my hand in his hair, tangled it between the strands, tugged a little as he closed his eyes, smiled, and turned his face into my hand, his skin so soft and warm against my palm.

“I heard you humming,” I said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“In bio, as well. We were doing something with the microscopes, too, I don’t remember what. But you were humming.”

He opened his eyes and they bored into me.“Yea?” he asked.

“Yea,” I said. “That’s when it started, too. …That’s when it got worse.”

Harry took in a breath and when he let it out again, it came out in a puff I could see, and I realized it must be cold out, but I couldn’t tell, not with my body, every part of me was warm, everything in the world was warm and I felt suddenly very fond toward that town, that street, Harry’s driveway. I’d never felt more like I was home.

Harry leaned forward and then we were kissing, soft and slow and warm and home, and I smiled and he smiled and I sighed and he sighed and I was happy.

“I feel,” Harry said, “I feel like I… like I could fly.”

I laughed, smiled, nodded, and kissed him again.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, Lou,” he smiled.

We kissed and parted and he moved so his head was on my chest and we stared up at the sky and the clouds parted a bit, so a few stars peaked through, and I played with his hair and he played with my hands and we were quiet and still and everything was perfect.

Abruptly, he raised his head up, so he was looking up at me from my chest, excitement lighting up his eyes and his beautiful mouth parting giddily.

“Dude,” he said, “We should get matching tattoos.”


End file.
